Tallander's Apprentice is my first published novel. More?

Brian Phillips Online

APPLE

It was night at the beginning of Spring. Jack was six years old and lost in a dream of his mother, asking questions. “Will he be hurt?” Jack got the impression that it wasn’t the first time she’d asked.

A strange, quiet voice responded. “Everybody hurts from time to time. And it is true that many apprentices die. If you are asking if your son will survive, I do not know. But if he does, he will never know hunger again.”

Then his father spoke. “Move away. He’ll hear us and wake.”

Some time later a hand touched his shoulder. “Come, little Jack, it is time to go.” It was the same quiet voice from his dream.

Jack opened his eyes. “Who are you?” he asked. He wasn’t afraid, just curious.

The pale, bald man might have smiled, but it was too dark to see. “My name is Garn, and I am your new master.”

Jack digested this stoically. “What about my parents?”

“They can no longer afford to feed you. Now sit up, close your eyes and take a deep breath. You will feel an instant of cold, but you will not be hurt.” Jack did as he was bid and felt a sudden wrench, as if he had turned sideways very quickly.

When he opened his eyes it was daylight, and he was far from home.

* * *

It was mid afternoon in late Summer, four years later. Jack was sitting at his desk in his master’s study, reading a text, ‘Anatomy of the Flower’, when he became aware of the Mage standing in the doorway, watching him with his hands hidden in the folds of his robe. Jack accepted the attention and waited.

“You have been here for quite a while now, have you not?” It didn’t really seem like a question, but Jack nodded, and after a time Garn continued. “What do you remember of your parents?”

“My father was strong, but my mother was always crying. We couldn’t keep up with the taxes, and I was hungry a lot.” He shrugged. “There was always work to be done.”

“Anything else?”

“No.”

Master Garn seemed thoughtful. “Do you like it here?”

Jack frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Living here. Learning and studying.”

“It’s all right. I don’t really know anything else.”

The Mage nodded, hesitated, then drew a leather-bound book from the folds of his robe. “It is time,” he said. “Put the text aside, and read this.”

Jack, a little confused, opened the book:

The substance of magic lies like a light mist over the whole of the realm and as far beyond as men have travelled. In nature it appears to be nothing more than a vast, simple spell, as if some powerful Mage (or perhaps a God) cast it from places unknown. It is possible even to duplicate this feat on a smaller scale, enveloping an object, a piece of land or a person with a layer of raw magic. Although there is little to gain from such a spell, it is harmless enough and is often used as the first test of a student’s proficiency, or lack thereof....

Jack turned and looked up, wide eyed, at his master. “It’s a book of magic!”

The Mage was smiling. “Yes. It’s yours. You’ve earned it.”

***

It was noon in late Autumn. Jack was fourteen years old. He leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his head. He was ready.

He spoke a trigger phrase to calm his mind, then pictured a single, woody cell. He paired it with a second, then a third, then more and more until he had an entire core of an apple complete with its pattern of pips held firmly in his mind. He added the flesh, cell by crisp, juicy cell, and finally wrapped it in a waxy skin of green. He rotated the image, seeking any flaw, and found none. He was done.

He spoke the words of the spell. The apple appeared exactly as he pictured it, eight inches in front of his nose.

The apple started to fall to the desk. Jack was halfway through a triumphant cry, “YAH-!” when his master appeared and froze the apple in place with a wave of his hand.

“-HOO!” Jack finished, beaming, “I did it!”

The Mage’s expression was not enthusiastic. “Why is it so small?”

Jack quietly deflated. “Because it was easier than a big one,” he said.

Master Garn nodded, but the expression remained. “Your next task is to un-make the apple. You have two weeks.” He began a gesture and would have vanished again if Jack hadn’t stopped him.

“What am I doing wrong?” he asked.

The gesturing stopped. “What do you mean?”

Jack frowned in frustration. “Am I learning too slowly? Was I supposed to make the apple bigger? Or what?”

“You are doing nothing wrong. A small apple is just as good as a large one. It is the spell that is important.”

“Then why do you treat me like this? I thought we were friends!”

His master shook his head. “You are my apprentice. Nothing more. A Mage cannot afford to have friends.”

Jack felt empty, as if all the fun had drained from his life. A memory stirred. “Why do so many apprentices die?” he asked suddenly, but the Mage shook his head once again.

“The problem lies not with what you have done, but with what you have not done. You have one final chance.” Garn completed the gesture and vanished.

It was early afternoon, twelve days later. Jack stared at the apple over his desk. ‘You have one final chance,’ his master had said, and though the words had made study awkward, he no longer worried about failure. He knew what to do. He pushed his books and scrolls aside, gathered his concentration and uttered words of Undoing.

The apple remained.

Jack stared in disbelief and repeated the words, but again they had no effect. Concerned, he reached for the book of magic and tried to find out what was wrong.

It was mid-afternoon, one day later. Jack walked in the cool, misty rain, along rutted roads and cart-tracks, listening to the cawing of crows and the distant howls of farm dogs. Every now and again a villager passed him by, on foot or in a wagon pulled by a mule, and once a farmer waved from a paddock of goats. But Jack barely noticed. He’d re-read all the appropriate texts and still didn’t know why he’d failed.

He paused to watch a black farm-dog grapple with a branch as long and thick as his arm, and smiled involuntarily. The dog had backed between two young trees grown close together, and the branch was too long to go through. The dog tugged frantically, dropped the branch, bit it again, growled, shook itself, tried to pull it through, failed and dropped it once more. Then the dog whined, looked about, sprang away and returned to try again.

Jack watched until the dog lost interest and bounded out of sight. It occurred to him that all the dog needed to do was turn the branch around....

He gaped in sudden understanding. Of course! He almost laughed, then started towards home before he realised that his master had meant him to fail.

He broke out in a sweat, turned and ran as fast as he could, and didn’t stop until it was too dark to see. When he did, he hid under a bush and dreamed of his mother, questioning Garn. ‘Will he be hurt?’

‘Everybody hurts, from time to time. And it is true that many apprentices die.’

It was morning, on the first day of winter. Jack shivered in his sleep, his feet covered by a thin layer of snow. A hand shook his foot and he startled awake.

“You are a long way from home,” said Garn.

There was nowhere to run. Jack stood. “I can’t Undo the apple unless you release it from stasis. You meant me to fail.”

Garn nodded, and sighed. “I had hoped you would not understand.”

“Why?”

“Because then you would have been allowed to live.”

Jack blinked. “What?”

“You learn too swiftly. If you were allowed to continue, you would become more powerful than any other. The Council will not allow it.” Garn shook his head sadly. “I am sorry. If I had noticed it earlier, I would have let you go. But now you know too much.” As the Mage spoke a ball of liquid glass grew in his hands until it was the size of his head.

Jack shifted nervously. “What are you doing?”

“I am sorry,” the Mage repeated, “But I have no choice.” And he threw the spell.

“No!” Jack yelled and ducked, reflexively raising an arm. The spell clung to the arm and numbed it, then worked its liquid way to his shoulder. Jack cried out in pain and screamed for help, but Garn stood unmoving, off to the side.

“Consider it a final test, if you will. Try to Undo it,” he said.

The numbness spread to his neck and halfway down his chest, and breathing became difficult. But his master’s words got through. He spoke a word of calming and tried to understand the nature of the spell. In moments he knew it was too complex, and in desperation he sought a new answer.

The spell touched his jaw. There was no more time. There was nothing he could do.

The spell touched his nose.

He was lost.

Except....

Garn’s spell was too complex for Jack to Undo, but any apprentice understood magic, and it too was a spell.

There wasn’t any time to think it through. He reached out, thought the words as hard as he could, and Undid magic itself....

It was still morning, on the first day of Winter. Jack’s apple started to fall to the desk, released from its stasis, but disappeared before it could land.

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I live and work in New Zealand, which is on the opposite side of the world from just about everywhere else. More?